I know an old canaller, his name is Simon Slick He had a mule with dreamy eyes, Lord how that mule could kick He’d wink his eyes, he’d wag his tail and greet you with a smile He’d gently telegraph his leg and send you half a mile 
Whoa, mule, whoa. Why don’t you hear them holler Tie a knot right in his tail so he don’t slip through his collar Why don’t they put him on a track, why don’t they let him go And every time he comes around, shout whoa, mule, whoa 
Now this mule he was a daisy, he pulverized a hog Dissected seven Chinamen, and he kicked a yellow dog He’d kick as quick as lightning, and he had an iron jaw He’s just the mule to have around to tame your mother in law 
Whoa, mule, whoa. I’m done with you forever. You ain’t no good, you never was, and you never will be neither You’re going to die and take a trip to that hot place below Old Satan see you coming in, he’ll yell, whoa, mule whoa 
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